Recreation
by Enaid Aderyn
Summary: A little down time plus something round generally equals some variety of mayhem.


_Dragon Age belongs to BioWare. I merely play around with it._

Recreation

The dog started it.

Blossom invariably had something in his mouth: a bone, a stick, a rock, someone's leg (body optional). This time he seemed to have found a ball of sorts, and was worrying it playfully as the others went about setting up camp. Alistair and Leliana had gone to the nearby village to purchase supplies at Sabhya's request, who suppressed his qualms over the likelihood of their coin being spent entirely on shoes (Leliana) or cheese (Alistair). At least the cheese would be edible, assuming any of it made it back to camp. Only Blossom would happily eat footwear, although admittedly if the alternative were Alistair's cooking it might be a temptation for the rest of the group.

The mabari spun around like a hammer-thrower and released his ball, which sailed toward Sabhya's head only to rebound from the force shield the startled mage reflexively put up. It bounced across the clearing and rolled against Sten's foot. The Qunari warrior glanced downward, and then at Sabhya, who spread his hands in amused apology, then at the expectant Blossom. Something that might have been a smile if it had lingered flicked across his countenance and he booted the ball back to the dog, who joyfully leaped to catch it. He shook it vigorously and let go again.

"Hah! My turn!" In a move belying the dwarf's usual semi-inebriated state, Oghren dropped his ale skin, seized his battleaxe, and swung it in a smooth arc, the flat of the blade hitting the ball with a crack. "Oh, nug-crap..."

It was speeding directly toward Morrigan, who had been watching with a curled lip. Her eyes narrowed, the air about her shimmered and _twisted,_ and in her place reared a great black she-bear that bawled and swatted the missile away. Only a Morrigan-bear could make "Waaaah!" sound so self-satisfied.

Chaos erupted.

Wynne prudently retreated into her tent as the others closed in a violent melee, the unanimous unspoken consent to _keep it moving and don't let it touch the ground! _Fists, feet, and head, staff, blade flats and the occasional spell flew, with Blossom bounding and barking ecstatically amidst it all. At one point, Zevran won admiring applause from Sabhya by leaping and kicking the ball mid-flip; the ovation was abruptly cut short as the little mage hastily fired off a Stonefist to deflect the return-shot from Sten and narrowly avoid a broken nose.

Hearing the commotion as they returned, Alistair and Leliana ran the last few yards and stopped in astonishment, weapons partially drawn. Alistair swallowed a mouthful of cheese.

"Hey, a game!" As Leliana squeaked and ducked, he stepped forward with a grin and caught the ball. He froze, and slowly looked at what was in his hands.

The ball was grinning back at him.

He was holding the battered remains of a darkspawn's head. _Hurlock? No, genlock. Wait, why do I care? _his thoughts babbled as the thing's one remaining eyeball popped from its socket to dangle across his wrist. With a gargle of revulsion he dropped it. Before it hit the ground, Oghren appeared beside him and whacked it to Sten, who was intercepted by a spectacular leap from Blossom who had launched himself from the Qunari's back.

"S'matter, pike-twirler?" the dwarf rasped. "It ain't like the sodding thing's using it anymore, now is it?" With a grin only identifiable by a glimpse of teeth through the hedge of his beard, Oghren turned and barreled into the fray.

Alistair and Leliana blinked and looked at each other.

"I- um." Flummoxed, he cast about for a topic. "Is there any more cheese?"

"Not much. You ate most of it on the way back."

"Oops. Do you think Sabhya will be upset?"

Leliana squinted at the scene, where Zevran had just oh-so-accidentally run into Sabhya and tumbled both of them into the side of Wynne's tent, which to the accompaniment of Wynne's outraged shouts was collapsing gracefully about them in a gratifying tangle of rope, canvas, and limbs.

"I think he may be a little preoccupied."

"Oh." Alistair considered, and then reached into the bag. "Good."

* * *

_A/N: A little inverse Buzkashi, Ferelden-style. _


End file.
